


seasick in a storm

by very_tired



Series: together we are the ocean [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Childhood Trauma, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad Bang Chan, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Seo Changbin is a Good Friend, They're very sweet, and learn, but chan vaguely explains his trauma to the boys, chan explains why he regresses, changbin helps, changbin is chan's papa, none of this happens in the fic explicitly, prequel to the other works in this series so far, the boys do research
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27734350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/very_tired/pseuds/very_tired
Summary: Chan knows that he can't just pretend that his secret won't rock the boat that is their debut and career. He's just worried it'll capsize anyway.PLS FOR THE LOVE OF ANY GODS OUT THERE, READ THE TAGS- I'll give more specifics in the notes
Relationships: Bang Chan/Everyone, Bang Chan/Han Jisung | Han, Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bang Chan/Seo Changbin
Series: together we are the ocean [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986107
Comments: 10
Kudos: 135





	seasick in a storm

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody who found this fic. I hope you are doing at least ok right now, and if not, please remember that you are loved. I have returned with the prequel to the other two fics in this series where Chan opens up about his backstory.
> 
> THIS FIC CAN BE TRIGGERING TO SOME, please be cautious. Chan deals with some really self-deprecating thoughts about his value as a leader and/or team member. He also explains that he was a victim of prolonged childhood sexual abuse that resulted in PTSD as an adult. The combination of these things gives him a panic attack. Only the panic attack and self-deprecating thoughts are discussed in more detail than in these notes. If there is anything I missed here, please let me know in a comment! 
> 
> Chan's age regression in this series is 100% NON-SEXUAL and should not be at all associated with kink. HE regresses to cope with the trauma inflicted on him while still physically a child. His brain literally reverts to an age before the trauma occurred. 
> 
> I love every single one of you reading these notes right now, and I hope that you are keeping yourself safe and healthy. This includes clicking off this fic if you need to. 
> 
> If you enjoy this, go give the other two installments a read!

Chan knew that he made this decision for a reason. They were  _ debuting _ , they would stay eight, they would live and laugh and love and learn with each other. Logically, he knew that keeping this a secret would only drive a rift in the relationship he worked so hard to foster with the other boys. Illogically, Chan didn’t think that he was ready. If they didn’t like it, or they thought he was dirty, or if they found it too weird, or they laughed at him, Chan didn’t think he could handle it. He also knew, though, that he should get this out of the way  _ before  _ debut, because then if someone dropped out of the group (him, if the other boys were too uncomfortable, because they deserved to debut, and maybe he didn’t, maybe) they would have time to move everything around. 

Despite the fact that he knew he had to go through with it, his thumb refused to press down on the send button. The cursor was blinking in the text bar of their group chat,  _ Hey everyone, group meeting at 6 in the living room. Need to tell you guys something. It’s kinda serious. Nothing about the company or debut tho,  _ still left up on his screen.

In the end, it was his anxious tremors that sent the message, not him.

\---

As the clock ticked ever closer to six Chan paced the kitchen, rethinking the decisions that led him to where he was now. He had already written what he was going to say down in the notes app of his phone and edited it about ten times before he resorted to pacing, dreading bearing his soul and his most vulnerable pieces to the boys he loved more than anything, to his home away from home, his people. 

The front door opened. The clock read 5:58. 

A door down the hall opened. 5:59.

The front door opened again- 5:59.

The door closed. 6.

\---

“I need to tell you guys something about me. It’s-” Chan clears his throat. “It’s pretty important and I trust you guys. Um, I need you to just, um, listen? And I’ll answer questions at the end. Please don’t, like, touch me unless I look like I’m completely zoned out because I don’t know what could, um, trigger me at this point, because I’m really nervous right now. Um-”

None of the boys sitting on the couch or the floor or the chair had ever seen Chan like this. Homesick? Yes. Stressed and exhausted to the point of a minor breakdown? Absolutely. Vulnerable? Yes, but never like this, never to where he had to read off a screen, to where he chewed his nails and bounced his leg and breathed shakily and  _ admitted _ to being close to breaking into tiny pieces on the ground by their feet. 

“When I was ten, my sister brought home this boyfriend and we all loved him, he seemed nice, he made my sister smile. But he um-,” Chan took a deep, shaky, hissing breath, and tipped his head up to the ceiling. He gritted his teeth. Exhaled. Looked back down. Moved on. “He forced me into things, sexual things, and convinced me that everyone would hate me if I told anyone, because I would be ruining my sister’s relationship, and it would make her mad, and no one would believe me, because he was super nice to her and in front of my mom and dad.” Chan didn’t look up from his phone screen, didn’t want to see the looks on the faces of the boys who had never once seen him this  _ weak _ . He wiped a tear off his cheek before it could drip off his chin.

“He and my sister didn’t break up for almost two years, and I didn’t tell anyone until I was like, seventeen. Because I was so embarrassed and scared.” Chan knew he was really crying, now, voice creaking and cracking, face flushed, cheeks wet. He wiped his face and his nose on his sleeve. “But basically, my therapist diagnosed me with PTSD from the prolonged trauma, and to cope my brain sometimes regresses? I guess, to before that happened to me, which basically means that I behave and think like a child of the age I regress to would. I think the youngest I’ve ever regressed to is about two, maybe three and the oldest is about eight.” He shut his phone off and breathed in deep, again. 

He finally looked up to meet the eyes of his audience, only to see seven grave faces. He hoped they weren’t pitying him, but he really couldn’t tell. Maybe they were disappointed. Chan knew he was, because he knew that no one sane would ever,  _ ever, _ want someone who couldn’t cope with their own shit unless they acted like a literal baby to lead them into their careers. 

“I’m- I’m really sorry guys. You don’t have to even interact with me when I’m small, I’ll step down from leader, I know that I shouldn’t be there, an’ I’m really sorry, an’ I’ll drop out of the group if you want me too, I know I’m weird, and disgusting, an’ I’m really sorry, please don’t hate me, I’m sorry.” The sobs ripped themselves out of Chan’s chest and up his throat without his permission, despite the crushing guilt and self-hatred that made it hard to breathe. Chan was vaguely aware that this was the start of a panic attack, but he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to do about those, really. 

“Hey. hey Chan-hyung, can I touch you please? Just to put your hand on my chest so you can feel how I’m breathing? It’s just me, just Changbin, I won’t hurt you hyung.” 

Right, he was supposed to breathe. That was really hard to do by himself, he remembered. He nodded. 

“Alright, thank you hyung, I’m gonna grab your hand now ok? There you go. Good. Can you feel my chest go up and down? Breathe in when you feel it go up under your hand, can you do that hyung?”

Chan didn’t feel much like the hyung right now, but he didn’t know how to say that, really, so he just nodded again and tried to follow Changbin’s instructions. 

\---

The room was silent except for Chan’s harsh breathing and quiet sobs coupled with Changbin’s quiet guidance. The other six faces in the room were pale and drawn with worry, processing the information that had been given to them way too fast to truly comprehend their weight. They had all seen or heard at least one horrific news headline or horror podcast in their lives, but it was completely different to be confronted by the actuality of something like this.

Their leader, their hyung, their  _ Chan _ , had been so hurt by someone that they would probably never even know the name of. Hurt to the point that his own brain  _ regressed _ to help him forget for a little bit. Hurt to the point that he was certain that they would hate him, find him disgusting.

Their hearts ached.

\---

As Chan calmed down, breath by breath, heartbeat by heartbeat, he pitched forward- face first into Changbin’s broad chest. “There you go hyung, there we go. We could never hate you, never. You’ll always be my leader, whether your brain goes small or not, alright? You’re so strong Channie-hyung, calm down for me.” Chan felt the words rumble under his forehead and tried his best to weigh his options. Honestly, though, he was already half-regressed and the panic attack had drained the rest of his willpower, so there wasn’t much to weigh, really.

“M’ not hyung righ’ now Binnie, m’ sorry, m’ not hyung.” He buried his head farther into Changbin’s chest, and brought his hand up to tangle up and twist in his unruly hair- a habit he retained from his childhood.

“Oh Channie-honey,” Changbin breathed out. “That’s okay sweetheart. Thank you for trusting me baby.” He pulled the boy closer and wrapped him in his arms tightly and blinked away a couple of tears that had welled up in his eyes. “Do you wanna go cuddle in bed with Gyu hon?”

“Can Channie- can I play wit’ my cars please Binnie-hyung?” The breath left Changbin’s lungs.

“Yeah baby, of course you can. Let me tell the boys we’re going to your room, and then we can go get your cars and play before bedtime. How’s that sound?” Changbin ran his hand down the baby’s back. 

“Mkay Binnie-’yung. Scared though.”

“You don’t have to be scared baby, no one’s gonna be mean to someone so cute and tiny, now will they? You’re just too sweet.” 

Chan giggled and chose to believe he was safe. “Okie.”

\---

That night, when Changbin pulled Chan (who despite being taller seemed so, so, so small) to his chest under the covers for bed, the baby took Changbin’s shirt in his fists and the man felt something raw and protective well up in his chest. And when Chan, half asleep and twirling his hair, said goodnight to his  _ Papa _ , all soft and sweet and innocent and young, Changbin swore he’d never let the man in his arms go. 

So he started searching.

_ ‘Trauma-based age regression’ _

_ ‘Age regression’ _

_ ‘PTSD’ _

_ ‘Symptoms and results of PTSD’ _

And as he deciphered the botched Korean of translated web pages at three o’clock in the morning, arm falling asleep and being used as Chan’s pillow, he let tears fall for his friend, his hyung, his baby, who deserved so much more than what he got but who was making the best out of a shitty hand anyway.

\---

When Chan woke up, he was too exhausted to panic again. He was nervous and embarrassed, for sure, but there were really only two ways it would go. They would hate him and he would drop out, or they wouldn’t. Changbin, his dongsaeng that he had called  _ Papa _ , would be disgusted, or he wouldn’t. That didn’t mean he wasn’t dreading breakfast, though.

When he opened his phone to kill time, he found their group chat, the same one in which he had called the group meeting, filled with messages. Almost every message contained a link to an article on either age regression or PTSD or trauma, and Chan cried again because they were good sources that really explained what Chan had failed to the day before and that didn’t contextualize regression as kink, or wrong, or strange.

His boys, seven young men who had probably never heard of or researched or considered these things in real-world contexts had taken the time to  _ learn _ . For Chan, who decided right then and there that he needed to wash his face and catch all of his members at once, before they scattered.

\---

There were questions. Of course there were. But they weren’t unkind, mostly just curious and all well-intended. Chan tried his best to give them answers, and they all listened. This time, though, it didn’t end in tears. 

HIs boys, particularly Minho, Jisung and Changbin, also made it very clear that none of them wanted to debut without Chan, and that there was no one else in the group that they trusted more to lead them into the spotlight than Chan himself. They needed him, they said, and it was okay for him to need them too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this all the way through! Let me know what you think by leaving a Kudos and/or comment!


End file.
